Chapter 12 - Pictures of You
"Please, don't go there, Benj."
We're standing in his bedroom and I'm pleading with him not to go through with it. When I woke up this morning, everything had been perfect. His warm body pressed up against mine, clad only in boxers, my nostrils breathing in his musky scent, his lips touching to mine before forming a soft "Good morning"... it all just felt right. His bare skin against mine had connected us, made us as one entity. I felt like I was finally a whole person - like the missing piece of the puzzle had finally been placed, after twenty-six long years.
Now, I'm trying not to show that I'm shivvering in cold as I look down - if only slighty - into his eyes, grasping his hands in mine. He has to listen to me. He has to. "What if he's there?"
Benji snorts, tugging his hands free of mine. "Joel, Tony's a wanted man. The last place he's gonna be is his apartment."
He wants to go to Chicago to collect his things from Tony's place. I can't understand why he's willing to take such a risk for material possesions, but no matter how much I plead with him, he has his heart set on going. And he's a stubborn bastard sometimes. I sigh. "Let me come with you."
For a moment he gives me an "Are you serious?" look, but when he realizes that I am, he shakes his head without hesitation. "No. No way. You're too weak. If Tony is there-"
"You just said he wouldn't be."
"Right, but if he is, you won't be able to defend yourself against the crazy asshole."
"You'll be with me."
He sighs. "Tony's gotten the better of us both before."
"So going alone is a better idea?"
He's silent for a while, and I chew on my lip while I consider my options. After a few seconds of absent mindedly staring out the window, my eyes lock on his. "What if Paul comes, too?"
As much as I love Billy, he's not so great in the brute strength department, and we both know that, but Paul... Paul can go from giant teddy bear to giant grizzly bear in 2.3 seconds. I've seen it. It's a scary, scary sight.
Benji stares at me for a moment, thinking about it, and I fold my arms across my chest. I can be just as stubborn as him. I mean, we're twins, we got the same genes for defiance, right? "You're not going without me."
He throws his hands in the air in a sign of defeat, rolling his eyes. "Okay. But only if Paul comes.
In a couple of hours, the three of us are on a plane bound for Chicago.
Benji bangs three times on the door, not expecting an answer, and he doesn't recieve one. He sucks his middle lip ring into his mouth nervously, and I can hear the soft clink of tooth on metal as he chews on it. After a few seconds, he pulls out his key and slips it into the lock with a click.
I've been to a lot of parties in this apartment, but it looks so different now. The posters that used to cover the walls have been torn down, revealing every little crack and stain. All of the curtains are drawn, blanketing the entire place in darkness. The last time I was here, it was all lit up, with people talking and laughing everywhere. I can remember the beautiful smile that spread across Benji's face as he spotted Tony in the room and made his way over to him. If he spotted Tony now, I don't think he'd be smiling.
I take a step back as I realize there are bloodstains on the carpet. Wow, it's getting very 'Smooth Criminal' in here.
As if Benji's reading my mind, he starts singing to himself. "Annie, are you okay? You okay? You okay, Annie?"
I laugh, but it's as if the walls catch my laughter and smother it quickly, before it can spread.
My brother appears unphased by the sight laid in front of us, and he quickly makes his way to the kitchen and starts shuffling through the drawers. "'Kay, let's split up and look for stuff, and we'll be out of here faster," he looks pointedly at me as he continues, smirking, "Paul, you take Joel and go get my stereo and my clothes from Tony's room."
I roll my eyes. There's obviously no one here, and Benji still won't let me go anywhere alone. I head for Tony's room, Paul following close behind, and push the door open. Why is it that whenever you're somewhere creepy, the door always squeaks?
There are more bloodstains soaked into the floor, and I have to wonder what happened. Really, I don't want to know. These stains look recent. In fact, a lot of things look recent - the bed's been slept in, and there's a stain on the sheets that looks like Coke or something. I touch it, and it's still wet. "Alright, Paul, I'll get his stereo, you get his clothes, and let's get the fuck out of here."
As I pick up his sizeable stereo, I wish that he'd just get off his lazy ass and buy himself a fucking iPod. It's not like he can't afford it, and it doesn't weigh a ton like this thing. I lug it out the door as Paul begins sifting through the drawers, trying to distinguish Benji's shirts from his ex-boyfriend's. Fortunately, there's a fairly large size difference between them.
When I walk back into the room, Paul is holding a large book in his hands. When I enter, he looks up at me, his expression horrified, and I cross over to him. "What's the matter, Paulio?"
He shoves the book into my hands.
Oh my God.
"Benji?" I cry out, my voice sounding strangled. No reply.
I call out again, louder and more urgently. "Benji?"
The thud of footsteps running down the hallway hits my ears, and then he rushes into the room, a frown on his face. "What? What's the matter?"
I push the book into the hands on my twin, and watch his face morph from a frown into a terrified expression that mirrors my own as he looks over the polaroids glued to the pages.
They start with photographs of us getting off the plane when we arrived in DC the previous day, and there are numerous shots of us in the car, on the way to Waldorf. They're all of Benji and I, huddled in the back seat of the taxi, listening to music on my iPod. How did he follow us the whole way there without us noticing?
Benji flips the page, and there are shots of us arriving at home, just walking up our front path with matching grins on our faces. There's a picture - taken through the front window of our house, it would seem - of Mom and I hugging. There's one of me standing at my bedroom window, squinting out over the backyard, searching for the source of the creepy sounds I'd been hearing.
He flips the page again, and my heart stops. I think I'm going to vomit. My body's goes cold and rigid as I look upon the final image in the book. It's a picture of Benji and I, sleeping peacefully in each other's arms, identical expressions of contentment on our faces. It can't have been taken from more than a few feet away. He was in Benji's room, with a camera, and we never even knew. He could have killed us in our sleep, and we couldn't have done anything. The camera must've had a flash, too, and I didn't even notice.
My eyes naturally travel down the page to a message that looks as if it's been written in blood - I suspect his own.
HE'S MINE.
Benji drops the book on the floor and the three of us flee the apartment, forgetting my brother's things. I'm the last one in the elevator, and as I rush into it, I swear to God I see a flash of bleach-blonde hair and the glint of a lip ring under flourescent lighting, coming around the corner and into the hallway we're leaving. I don't have time to think about it, though, as Paul's already hit the button for the ground floor.
I look from Benji to Paul, who are both breathing heavily, both from sprinting and out of sheer terror. By the time we reach the bottom floor, I've regained enough composure to speak. "My God... he's crazy."
My twin's eyes grow dark as he scowls. "'Crazy' doesn't even begin to describe that."